


(before you) i could only see as deep as the skin

by ambitioncutsusdown



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-12 01:54:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2091441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambitioncutsusdown/pseuds/ambitioncutsusdown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She always finds him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(before you) i could only see as deep as the skin

**Author's Note:**

> posted on [tumblr](http://queerknox.tumblr.com/post/93605056450/can-you-please-please-please-write-some-lengthy) first, now posting here (b/c i want to) 
> 
> prompt: "lengthy sonya/newt smut." didn't turn out quite that smutty but hey 
> 
> (i know it's an unusual pairing but just ♥ open your heart and let love it ♥)

He calls her at three a.m. because he knows she’ll answer. She’ll pick up the phone and ask “where are you?” and when he tells her he doesn’t know, she’ll say “I’ll find you.”

She always finds him.

(She found him months ago when he was lost in his head and she finds him now, when he tells her he’s in front of a tall building and there’s a church on his left and a sex shop further down the street. He doesn’t know how  _she_  knows that exact location, but she picks him up anyway, at 3:30 a.m., bringing an extra blanket and the kindest expression on her face Newt has ever seen.)

They drive in silence, Sonya keeping her hands on the steering wheel and her eyes on the road. Usually when Newt’s in the car with her, there’s music playing in the background. Some top 40 stuff, Newt doesn’t really know most of it. Doesn’t really care about it either, because it’s easy and if he’s lucky Sonya will sing along to whatever song is on.

He’s not lucky now, ‘cause he’ll have to deal with her silence while his mind is screaming at him and his hands can’t stop shaking, and he wants to hold her hand. He wants to lace their fingers together and squeeze her hand and tell her; tell her she’s the only one that can make him stop thinking and start feeling. That’s he’s tired if thinking and being numb and choking on air – that all he wants is her and her kind words and her smile and to feel her against him again.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he stares out of the window and tries not to throw up. Picking him up is one thing, but Newt expects Sonya won’t be very keen about taking care of him. Not like that.

Not in any other way either, maybe. He doesn’t dare to ask.

“What were you doing there?” she breaks the silence a few minutes later. Or a few hours. Newt can’t tell, and he briefly wonders if maybe time stopped weeks ago and he just failed to notice.

“Walking.”

It’s a lie and she can tell, but she doesn’t push.

It’s what he likes about her – she never pushes, never forces him to talk about things he can’t say. It’s all on him. He hates it, too, because maybe it’d be easier if she just screamed at him. Begged him to spill his guts and bare himself, until all there’s left is raw nerves and bruised bones.

Although Newt expects he might run away for good if she’d ever do that.

And she won’t let that happen.

(He thinks he loves her for that. He thinks he’s afraid to even consider that thought.)

So they drive in deafening silence and Newt can count her breaths and he tries to matches his own with hers, so they can breathe together, so he can get lost in her yet another time.

She looks so put together, so in control of everything; while he’s just… ripped open. He closes his eyes in shame – he shouldn’t be here, he shouldn’t dump all his baggage on her and expect her to deal with it. But he doesn’t know how to do it on his own, and she’s all he has left (maybe not all, but right now, she’s one of the most important parts, and he couldn’t bear losing her).

He opens his mouth to talk right as they pull over and stop in front of Sonya’s apartment, the building dark and seemingly quiet.

A quietness that’s reflected in Sonya’s life, and of course, he’s going to ruin it again.

(He’s always been good at ruining things.)

“Come in,” she says, getting out of the car in a fluid move and locking it once Newt has done the same. Everything is still like he remembers from months earlier. No lifts while Sonya lives on the fifth floor.

(Although last time he was here, they hardly could keep their hands off each other, mouths eager to stay connected and fingers brushing bare skin. Newt found his shirt the next morning on the stairs between the third and fourth floor. He misses that.)

Now their walk is silent and their breathlessness is purely because of the amount of stairs and nothing else.

Her flat is still tiny but cozy. She used to have twenty three pillows but Newt thinks there are a few new ones on the couch. There are dishes on the sink and tons of paint brushes lying around. No canvasses though. Newt suspects her to have hidden them before she left to pick him up (because they used to be around  _all the time_ ).

“Do you want something to drink?”

Newt shakes his head, dropping the blanket he brought in on the couch and awkwardly looking around.

This place used to feel like home.

Now it just feels like everything he’s lost, and the person who used to be able to bring him back is staring at him like she doesn’t know what to do with him either.

When even Sonya’s failing at finding him, how is he supposed to cope?

“I found you, though.”

Newt looks up at him, confusion written all over his face, but Sonya smiles that soft smile of hers, the one that makes Newt nervous and giddy at the same time, and says; “you asked me how you were supposed to cope when I fail at finding you.”

_I didn’t_ , Newt wants to say, but he keeps his mouth shut.

Apparently he did, and if he starts thinking about what else he might have said without realizing, he’ll panic.

“But I found you.”

“Yeah,” Newt breathes out, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. It falls right back in his face. “You did.”

Sort of like everything keeps falling back. Like he keeps falling back.

She’s not saying anything else, just opens a cupboard and Newt turns around so he doesn’t have to watch her.

The pictures are still on the wall. Of her and her friends and  _their_  friends and her sister and him; and his cheeks are burning with shame again when he realizes that she hasn’t tried to replace him, not even in picture. While he tried to replace her with so many things, and none of them worked.

Even though he’s the one that left that night, she still seems to be better off.

Not that he expected her to be anything but fine. Not that he  _wanted_  that.

And then there’s a hand on his shoulder and Sonya is standing there, holding a cup of what looks like tea, and she’s smiling at him, and Newt can see she’s sad and he wants to take all of it away, wants to make it all better.

Except he doesn’t know how.

Fixing things was never his forte.

“I’m sorry.”

That seems like a good start.

Sonya looks a bit taken aback, frowning at him, but she doesn’t interrupt him.

“For… for leaving. It wasn’t about you.”

“Then what was it about, Newt?” Her voice is not giving anything away, so Newt hopes she’s not angry. Even though she would’ve had any right to be – he’s been a dick to her. Leaving right after spending the night with her and not calling her once, except for when he’s in shit. Lost.

He’d hate her, if she did it to him.

(He wouldn’t. He could never hate her.)

“I’m not… I can’t… do this. I just mess up. It’s all I’ve ever done in my life, and you don’t need someone to mess up.”

Sonya shakes her head, leaning away to put down her mug, but it’s enough to make Newt panic for a brief second, thinking she’s going to…  _leave_.

Leaving is  _his_  thing.

“Where did you go? After you left?”

“Pack my things at Minho’s. He yelled at me. Got on the train afterwards and just… that.”

“Why?”

“I couldn’t stay here, around you. It hurt.”

If baring your soul always feels like this, Newt is happy he’s never done that before. He feels sick and disgusting and empty.

“Why?”

“Seeing you hurt, hurts me. Seeing you happy without me, hurts. Seeing how you’d eventually stop caring… it’d devastate me.”

“I still care.”

Newt looks up at her; at her big eyes and the long lashes around them. How they’re red-rimmed, like she’s going to cry.

“Sonya…”

Which one of them moves first, Newt can’t tell, but all he knows is that Sonya’s lips are against his and they still feel as soft as he remembers, and warm and demanding and she tastes like peppermint. His arms still fit around her waist and her hands still fit in his hair, and he needs her closer,  _closer_ , needs to feel her like he did before and leaving again will probably kill him but he doesn’t care. Can’t care, when Sonya’s here with him and she’s everything he ever wanted and so much more.

He lets her take off his shirt, and then goes back to kissing him, mouth slick with saliva and her kisses hot and needy, her strong hands roaming over his chest, down to his hip, and she rests her palm on the tattoo on his hipbone like she still remembers exactly where it is.

Newt doesn’t let himself think about that possibility. It’s probably just luck.

( _It’s not, it’s not, it’s not_  his mind sings to him in Sonya’s voice.)

He slips his own hands under Sonya’s shirt, dragging them up her sides to her chest, keening breathlessly when he realizes she’s not wearing a bra – he was too busy avoiding looking at her to have noticed it sooner, but now he wishes he did.

When he cups her boobs in his palms, Sonya moans quietly and presses that much closer to him, pushing Newt back into the couch and the million pillows, down until she’s straddling his hips and has to lean over him to keep kissing him, too desperate to lose contact for even a few seconds.

Like Newt might disappear again if she does.

( _I won’t_ , he wants to promise her, but he can’t.)

He can’t stop touching her, hands still shaking as he brushes them down her back and her hips and gets her shorts off, fingers trembling as he slides them over the inside of her thighs. Shivering when she gets rid of his pants and boxers and then he’s naked underneath her and she’s staring down at him, eyes shining in the dim light and lips wet and bruised red and curling into a grin, like she has everything she ever wanted and so much more, like Newt is what she’s been waiting for all along.

“Fuck,” she curses right before kissing him again, rocking her hips down against hips, and Newt can feel how turned on she is through her panties – slick and wet and everything Newt thought he’d lost.

“Sonya,” he whispers, like it’s the only word he remembers. He tries to push her panties down but fails in the first attempt, and on the second one, and Sonya laughs into his mouth and helps him and then they’re naked together and Newt clutches her closer, needing more of her.

“Sonya.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she replies, peppering kisses all over his face before taking his hands and resting them on her hips, and the next second she’s sinking down on him and Newt forgets to breathe.

He forgets everything, except the beautiful girl on top of him, and he tilts his face towards hers again, seeking her mouth for another kiss that doesn’t last long enough.

They rock together, Newt grinding up as Sonya pushes down, and all he can hear are her gasps and groans and whispers, and all he can feel is her, and everything is her, just her.

Everything has always been her.

She comes with a moan of his name, and he isn’t far behind her, gasping her name into her skin.

They rock together for a while, until finally she pulls off and lies down next to him instead, ignoring the fact she’s got a much more comfortable bed in her bedroom and setting for a cheap couch and ratty blankets, but still she looks happier than she’s done all evening.

“Promise you’ll be here when I wake up?”

And Newt nods.

Maybe he can’t promise her forever – not yet. But he can promise her another day, and then one more after that, and yet another one, until he’s built his own forever. 


End file.
